Happy Birthday
by Gigabomb
Summary: Jiraiya x Tsunade. Even people who go through the same experiences remember them in different ways. Jiraiya learns this the hard way.


Author's Note: Written for sintari's birthday, who requested Jiraiya/Tsunade, "something bittersweet."

Jiraiya could still remember the days when Tsunade looked forward to her birthday. Not that this was unusual among shinobi; surviving yet another year of war was something all ninja- no matter how cynical- thought worth celebrating. But still, Tsunade took it pretty far even for one of their profession. Not-so-subtle hints of what she wanted were dropped months in advance, birthday kimonos were shopped for at the most inappropriate of times and places- S-class missions were no exception to this- and woe be to any teammate or sensei who didn't wish her many happy returns within the first ten seconds of seeing her on the special day.

Not that anyone begrudged her this. Tsunade was as close to a princess as was possible in a village of shinobi. She didn't act like it most of the time, but her birthday was something different. Something to be treasured.

Sarutobi-sensei, who wasn't happy much then, when the war was at its fiercest, when his followers and subordinates were dying in droves every day, would smile indulgently and inevitably show up at the party with some bizarre medical text from God-knows-where, and for those few seconds while his sole female student gave him an enthusiastic hug in thanks, his eyes would lose that perpetual weary look, just a little. Jiraiya made a point of writing some poetry that not even Tsunade could find suggestive subtext in, attaching it instead of a card to whatever bauble he had come across on missions that he thought she would like. Even Orochimaru, who didn't acknowledge anyone's birthday if he could help it, including his own, would surreptitiously hand Tsunade a scroll of some rare jutsu or other when he thought no one was looking.

The last time that had happened was over fifteen years ago. For fifteen years, Jiraiya never saw Tsunade, never ran into her on the road so he could give her the poetry he had written for her that was completely bereft of subtext- something that was harder and harder these days, when it was practically the only thing he could find amusement in anymore- and the baubles he had collected over the years that made him think of her.

Even when she came back, it still wasn't the same. No one in Konoha knew the Godaime Hokage's birthday. Everyone that had known was gone. Sometimes, Jiraiya was glad of that. It wouldn't have been right, without Sarutobi-sensei smiling indulgently in the wings, or without Orochimaru standing off to the side in the shadows, a scroll hidden up his sleeve, waiting for the right moment when he thought no one was looking. Jiraiya didn't even consider giving her the trinkets he had been collecting for so long. They were too useless, too trivial. Jiraiya could no longer remember the sentiment behind his reasons for buying them. But he still made the effort, could still remember the delight on the princess of Konoha's face when someone wished her many happy returns, for once not haunted by loss or pain. Even if that princess was no longer the child she had once been, Jiraiya still tried.

"Tsunade."

The Godaime Hokage looked up from her desk, her face lined with fatigue. It was late, almost midnight, and she was still writing condolence letters to the families of a genin cell who had died on a mission the day before. She looked blankly at the package Jiraiya held out to her, with a short poem, only four lines long, tied to the ribbon.

"Happy Birthday, Tsunade."

Tsunade stared at the package for a long moment. Then she turned to him. There was nothing of Konoha's princess in her world-weary, empty, ancient gaze. At least, nothing that Jiraiya could see. "There isn't anything happy about it, Jiraiya. Now unless you have anything important to report, please leave. I still have work to do."

For once, Jiraiya could think of nothing to say. So he left. It was over an hour later that he found himself in the middle of a clearing miles from Konoha, watching Tsunade's present, unopened, burn to ash. The poem attached to it had gone up in smoke long before.

Jiraiya could still remember the days when Tsunade looked forward to her birthday.

_END_


End file.
